


RMS Titanic

by Bloodrose84



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (but not really), Angst, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Gen, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical References, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mutual Pining, Titanic - Freeform, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, character injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-02 04:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20270083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodrose84/pseuds/Bloodrose84
Summary: Aziraphale really felt like he was part of a major piece of history – he loved it when that happened. All history was wonderful, of course, but he did enjoy being able to say to himself "I was there," when people were still talking about a thing decades or centuries after it had happened.********Aziraphale and Crowley take a trip on the ill-fated maiden voyage of the Unsinkable Ship. Needless to say, it doesn't go as either one had planned.**Complete**





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've enjoyed writing this! Updates will be pretty quick because I have the main story down, just some minor edits when I find the time!  
I've taken some liberties with the layout of the ship, timings, etc.

Aziraphale breathed deeply, enjoying the rich salty tang of sea water. He surveyed the ship before him. Human methods of transportation may be slow but oh God they could do it with style when they wanted. Traveling by sea had to be one of Aziraphale’s favourite methods. It left plenty of time for observing the world, reading, and being around the humans.

“Ticket please, sir?”

Aziraphale beamed at the young man in front of him. With a flourish, he produced a ticket from inside his waistcoat and handed it to him.

“This is all jolly exciting, isn’t it?” he asked happily. The young man looked at him, looking bored.

“Yes, sir, er…” he glanced down at the ticket, “Mr Fell sir. Very exciting. You’re free to board; one of our stewards inside will show you to your cabin. Enjoy the voyage.”

“Thank you, young man.” Aziraphale made his way up the gangplank. It really was a marvel of engineering, this ship. Simply astonishing. And so beautiful. His eyes traced the name painted on the side – TITANIC – and he smiled.

“They say it’s unsinkable you know!” he said to no one in particular.

“Is that right?” a young woman walking near him glanced up at it. “How fascinating.”

Inside the ship, Aziraphale was shown to his plush rooms, then decided to take a walk up on the deck. He enjoyed seeing everyone milling around, the excited spectators watching from the harbour side, and his fellow passengers boarding one by one. His eyes caught on a flash of red hair. _It can’t be_. He hadn’t seen Crowley since the Unpleasantness (for some reason it was always capitalised in Aziraphale’s mind) in St James’s Park. He tried to catch sight of the man again in the crowd, but he couldn’t. Shrugging, he turned away. It couldn’t have been Crowley. This really wasn’t his scene; far too human.

***

Aziraphale sighed happily, sipping from the glass of champagne he’d been handed when he arrived in the first class lounge. It really had been a spectacular send off, everyone waving and cheering as they pulled out of the harbour and headed towards open sea. There had been a small incident with another boat, but all in all it couldn’t have been better handled. Aziraphale really felt like he was part of a major piece of history – he _loved_ it when that happened. All history was wonderful, of course, but he did enjoy being able to say to himself _I was there_ when people were still talking about a thing decades or centuries after it had happened.

“Damned fine ship, isn’t she? Damned fine.” A smooth American voice came from his left. Aziraphale looked around as a good natured looking man sat down in one of the chairs beside him.

“She certainly is something else. I’ve never seen one quite like her!” Aziraphale admitted, smiling. “Mr…?”

“Brayton.” The man held out a hand, and Aziraphale shook it. “You can call me George. And you are?”

“Mr Fell. Delighted to meet you.”

“And what is it you do…?”

***

They chatted for almost an hour before Aziraphale decided he wanted to see some more of the ship. They parted with a promise to catch up again, perhaps for a game of cards, and then Aziraphale made his way out onto the deck, breathing in the crisp air. He strolled along the promenade deck, nodding politely to those few passengers he passed, wondering about whether he should go and inspect the lower decks now, or wait until morning. His rooms was wonderfully comfortable, and he did have a fine selection of 17th century literature he was just itching to make a start on…he jumped when he heard someone call out, not far off.

“Oi! First class only up here, clear off!”

“Sorry, so sorry, took a wrong turn…”

Aziraphale froze when he heard that second voice. He quickened his pace, turning the corner and colliding with the man hurrying in the opposite direction. A very familiar man it turned out, with red hair and odd little sunglasses. Aziraphale stared in disbelief.

“Crowley? What are you doing here?”

If Crowley was just as surprised to see Aziraphale standing before him, he hid it much better. “Hello, Angel. Nice ship, isn’t she? Gorgeous…hull.”

“What are you up to?” Aziraphale asked, eyes narrowing.

Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to look innocent. “Nothing! I’m just…going to America. Haven’t been in a few hundred years, I hear it’s quite different now.”

“Via boat? Via _this_ boat? Which I just so happen to be on?”

Crowley shrugged, innocently. “Coincidence, Angel. Why _are_ you here, anyway?”

Aziraphale blushed. “I heard about the voyage, thought it might be fun.”

“_Fun_?”

“Yes.” He folded his arms. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

Crowley sighed. “Oh, you know…big old luxurious ship like this. Lots of money about, which means lots of people willing to be tempted and corrupted. Plus it makes a nice change. Call it a busman’s holiday.” He grinned.

“And that’s all? Just a little…tempting and corrupting?”

“Would I lie to you, angel?” Crowley asked innocently.

“Of course you would.”

Crowley laughed. “That’s settled then. No point in asking me anything more. Fancy a stroll?”

At that moment, a steward came around the corner and caught sight of Crowley. “Oi, I won’t tell you again, you need to- oh.” His eyes had found Aziraphale. Instantly, his whole demeanour changed. He stood up straighter and his voice became a touch more upper-class. “I’m so sorry, sir, is this man bothering you? I don’t know how he managed to-“

“Its fine, it’s fine.” Aziraphale reassured him. “He’s leaving.” He grabbed Crowley by the arm and dragged him away. “Must you always cause trouble?”

“Well…yes.” Crowley looked around curiously. “Where are we going?”

“My rooms.”

Crowley glanced at him, surprised. “You actually have rooms? I just sort of came aboard.”

“You’re a _stowaway_?” Aziraphale sounded scandalised. Crowley laughed.

“Relax, angel, it’s not like I’m squatting in the engine room stealing the food. So why _have_ you got rooms?”

“I like my own space.” Aziraphale sniffed. “Somewhere quiet.” They reached a door and he paused, searching in his pockets for a key. He glanced at Crowley. “And if you just ‘came aboard’ why make yourself a third class passenger?”

“The third class humans are more fun.” Crowley smirked. He clicked his fingers and Aziraphale’s door swung open. Aziraphale rolled his eyes, abandoning his search for the key and leading them inside. Crowley’s eyebrows shot up as he surveyed the room before him and he whipped off his sunglasses as if to get a better look. He gave a low whistle. “Bloody hell, Aziraphale. How much did you pay for this then?” The angel went pink and muttered something. “What was that?”

“Five hundred pounds.” Aziraphale said, slightly louder. Crowley gaped at him, looking utterly delighted.

“Five hundred…ha! Do your superiors know how much you value your ‘earthly comforts’?”

“It’s not one of the most expensive ones!” Aziraphale protested hotly. 

“I know for a fact you could get a first class room for less than £40.” Crowley smirked. He glanced around at the decadent furnishings and trappings. “Wouldn’t have this luxury though, would it…”

“Oh shut up.” Aziraphale snapped, flushing. The demon let out a bark of laughter. He flung himself into a low armchair and sprawled there, looking very much at home.

“Oh, I’m only teasing, angel. I might stay in here for the rest of the voyage, very…comfortable.”

Aziraphale coughed indignantly. “Oh, you might, mightn’t you? Awfully presumptuous of you!”

“Fine. Please may I stay here?” Crowley asked, rolling his eyes.

“People will _notice_.” Aziraphale said, wringing his hands. “I can’t have a stowaway-”

“I’ll miracle myself downstairs every morning, ok?” his voice turned syrupy sweet. “May I stay here?”

Aziraphale glared, not meeting his eyes. “…yes.”

“Thank you.” Crowley supressed a grin. “Now, you got any decent booze in this place or what?”

Aziraphale sniffed. “I might have a bottle or two.”

“Of course you do.” Crowley smiled, then; a soft, fond smile. “It’s good to see you, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale blinked, surprised. He’d been expecting Crowley to still be angry with him. This was…good. He returned the smile, a warm feeling in his chest. “It’s good to see you, too, Crowley.”


	2. Chapter 2

They met up the next morning on the poop deck (Aziraphale had tried to insist they use the promenade deck, but Crowley had refused stating that he didn’t want to dress up like a pompous twit and pretend to be a first class passenger. Aziraphale had eventually relented, reluctantly.)

“...I just don’t understand, my dear, surely if you want to be…tempting and corrupting…first class is the place to do it? Plenty of money around, you said.”

Crowley grinned at him, skipping slightly as he walked. “Aziraphale, are you _encouraging_ me to work my demonic wiles?”

“No!” Aziraphale went slightly pink. “No, I just…Crowley, the _restaurant_, they’ve got it done up just like The Ritz, and there’s a gorgeous little French cafe, I hear the food is to die for-”

Crowley laughed. “You’re not going to tempt me with food, Aziraphale.”

“Well then how can I tempt you?”

Crowley made a soft choking sound. “Er…just accept I won’t be dressing up in a coat and tails, hmm?”

Aziraphale sighed, annoyed. “Fine. I just thought I’d get to experience them.”

Crowley shot him a funny look. “You can. You don’t have to hang around with me all trip, you know.”

“Oh! I, er…I mean, I just…I have to keep an eye on you. Don’t I?” He’d meant it to sound like a statement, but it definitely came out sounding like a question. Crowley was still watching him with that curious expression on his face. Aziraphale cleared his throat. “I mean, of course we won’t spend _all_ our time together, but I do have to make sure you’re not…well…I might need to thwart you. If you’re going to be…wiley.”

“Quite right.” Crowley said, slowly. He looked around. “We’ll be stopping in Ireland soon, picking up more passengers. Not such good scenery then. Fancy a drink?”

“In my rooms?”

Crowley shrugged. “Or we could check out the third class establishments. I’m sure it’s not ‘to die for’ but hey, if it’s good enough for them…”

Aziraphale beamed. “Absolutely, my dear. Lead the way.”

***

“I take it back.” Crowley leant back in his chair. “We definitely should have gone to your rooms.”

“It’s not that bad…”

“You couldn’t even finish the food. _You_. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not eat a meal.”

Aziraphale glared at him. “I’m full from breakfast.” He said primly.

“Of course you are.” Crowley caught someone’s eye and they quickly looked away. “I do wish you’d changed. It looks really weird you bring in here.”

“Oh, pshh.” Aziraphale waved a hand. “its fine, Crowley, you’re just paranoid.” He discretely gestured with his fingers and the few people who had been sneaking looks abruptly lost interest and looked away. “Besides, since when have you cared about attracting attention?”

“I don’t, I just…” Crowley frowned. He wasn’t sure how to explain what he meant; it was just that being sat here with Aziraphale felt strangely intimate. Which was insane, because they’d dined together plenty of times. But it was that sense of being _watched_ that was niggling at him; making it feel like more than it was. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

They spent the rest of the day together, making use of the various facilities the ship had to offer (Crowley, against his better judgement, finally agreed to dress up as a first class passenger so they could try the restaurant. He enjoyed it so much he immediately gave someone at the next table food poisoning, just so he could point out to Aziraphale that it was a good thing they couldn’t do this all the time. Aziraphale raised a knowing eyebrow and said nothing.) By the time they left the restaurant they’d enjoyed far too much good wine and both were feeling quite tipsy.

“You know what we should do now? Dancing!” Crowley announced, giving a little spin on the spot to emphasise his point. Aziraphale pulled a face.

“I don’t dance.”

“Oh you dance.” Crowley smirked. “I’ve heard stories!” He stumbled and grabbed Aziraphale’s waist to steady himself.

Aziraphale smiled shyly and nudged him with a shoulder. “I don’t think the gavotte is what you had in mind my dear.”

“And what did I have in mind, angel?”

Aziraphale’s smile faltered for a second as he looked at Crowley’s face, then he laughed. “Probably some sort of…of…jazz or something.”

“Jazz?” Crowley looked quite horrified. “Jazz?!” he grabbed Aziraphale’s upper arms. “I ought to discorporate you where you stand!”

“Go on then, demon.” Aziraphale beamed. “Do your worst!”

Crowley grinned back. “Nah. I’ve got a better idea. I’ve seen your place, want to see mine?”

***

A few minutes later they were walking down a corridor that was clearly not meant to be used by passengers. They took several turnings before Crowley gave a little “Ah!” and pushed open a door. Aziraphale looked around. His eyes fell on a blanket in the corner of the room surrounded by empty bottles, a stack of newspapers and (oddly) a small potted plant.

“I thought you said you weren’t squatting in the engine room!” he said accusingly.

“I _said_ I wasn’t squatting in the engine room and stealing the food. Important distinction, angel.” Crowley nudged the blanket with his foot. “Oi. Piss off.”

“Excuse me…?”

“Not you. Jenny, piss off.” The face of a small dark tabby cat emerged from the blanket and hissed at him half-heartedly, before beginning to purr. Crowley frowned. “You haven’t.” he bent down and lifted the blanket gingerly then dropped it with a look of disgust. “You have! Damnit, Jenny, we talked about this. Don’t bring your babies in here! I’m a snake, I might eat them you know. And you.” The cat emerged fully from the blanket, stretched luxuriously, then wound around Crowley’s ankles purring like a steam engine.

“Oh!” Aziraphale said joyfully. “Oh how sweet! Jenny, is it?” he bent down and offered his hand to the cat, who sniffed it before rubbing her face on his outstretched fingers.

“She’s not sweet. Don’t tell her that.” Crowley sighed. “Jenny here pointedly ignores the fact that _I don’t like her_ and won’t leave me alone. And now she’s brought these.” He pulled the blanket back carefully to reveal a litter of tiny kittens wiggling around. They couldn’t have been more than a week old. Aziraphale gasped in delight and Crowley rolled his eyes.

“Of course _you’d_ like them.” He watched Aziraphale coo over the kittens for a while, forcing himself not to smile. Aziraphale looked up at him with a smile that radiated pure joy and Crowley’s resolve crumbled. He knelt down beside him.

“I’ve been thinking I should get a cat for the shop.” Aziraphale said, gently petting the head of one of the kittens. It wiggled and rolled onto its back.

“Oh, yeah, fantastic idea.” Crowley drawled. “If you want to keep me away go right ahead.”

“I don’t think I could keep you away if I tried.” Aziraphale said warmly. Crowley shot him a sharp look, but Aziraphale wasn’t paying attention to him. Crowley wondered if he should press the matter further, then decided against it. No point in poking the bear (however cute the bear might be). Instead, he watched Aziraphale enjoy himself, with a peculiar tightness in his chest. When Aziraphale finally suggested they head back to his rooms so Crowley could get some sleep, the demon was more than happy to; and if he did feel a slight pang when Aziraphale stayed in the sitting room and the bedroom door closed between them, he ignored it.


	3. Chapter 3

Aziraphale didn’t see Crowley the following day. They’d made plans to meet after breakfast, but the demon hadn’t shown. Aziraphale wasn’t unduly worried, but he was a touch annoyed that Crowley hadn’t bothered to at least let him know he wasn’t going to be there. It was rude. Not that he should expect anything less from a demon, he supposed. He spent the day alternating between his rooms and the various facilities the ship had to offer; spending time with the humans and generally getting to know a lot about them. Everyone was so friendly, but he couldn’t help feeling slightly…bored. Life just seemed to lack a certain _spark_ when Crowley wasn’t around. He never really thought about it day to day, but having expected to spend time with the demon there was an uncomfortably noticeable Crowley-shaped hole in his day. Aziraphale finally excused himself from where he was talking to a (seemingly growing) group of women at about 11 and headed to his room. He hoped Crowley would be there – hadn’t he said he would stay there the rest of the voyage after all? – but it was empty. Aziraphale ignored the twinge of disappointment and made himself comfortable with his book. Crowley would turn up soon enough, he always did.

***

The next morning, Aziraphale enjoyed a fine breakfast in the dining room, and was deciding what to do with his day. He had several invitations from people to join them but he rather thought he wanted to find Crowley. Much as he hated to admit it, he’d missed him yesterday. He did wonder if the demon might have gotten bored and simply left the ship, but part of him was still sure Crowley wouldn’t have just up and left without letting him know first; not when they had plans to meet. A quick scout of the decks turned up nothing, however, and Aziraphale began to doubt that little part of him. After all, he and Crowley weren’t _really_ friends, were they? Disappearing without a word about cancelling plans would be typical demon behaviour…but would it be typical Crowley behaviour? He was forced to admit to himself there was a spark of concern growing in him now, but he pushed it down. Crowley was fine. Of course he was. Ignoring the urge to keep looking, Aziraphale made his way up to the promenade deck, wondering if Mrs Gibson and her daughter were still available for a stroll.

It was late afternoon before Aziraphale finally caught sight of Crowley. He was standing on the poop deck, looking over the side at the water. Aziraphale’s heart leapt at the sight of him, then sank quickly as irritation flared. So, he had just been hanging around then? Nothing wrong with him at all, just couldn’t be bothered to show up? No doubt he’d been spending time with his ‘more fun’ friends down in third class. Aziraphale toyed briefly with the idea of just carrying on his way, but shook his head and hastened for the stairs down to the deck, hoping Crowley wouldn’t have left by the time he got there. To his relief, he was still in exactly the same place.

“Crowley!” Crowley stiffened, but didn’t move. Aziraphale stalked over to him. “Crowley, where the hell- oh!” Aziraphale gasped. Crowley’s face behind his sunglasses was marred with bruises. There was a cut on his upper lip and another just below his hairline. He looked terrible.

“Crowley, what happened?!”

“What…oh, this?” Crowley gestured to his face. “It’s nothing, angel. Little set-to in the lower decks. Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about? My dear, you look-” he reached out a hand and Crowley jerked back.

“’S fine, angel. Doesn’t hurt. Just keeping up appearances – wouldn’t do for me not to appear injured after getting the heaven kicked out of me.”

“Couldn’t you have stopped them?” Aziraphale asked, aghast. Crowley scoffed.

“They came at me out of nowhere. Couldn’t really have stopped it without hurting them.”

“But Crowley, _why_-”

Crowley smiled humourlessly. “Looks a bit funny, apparently, you and I walking the ship together. People don’t like it. Think I’m your ‘bit of rough’.”

Aziraphale frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Crowley sighed impatiently. “They think we’re shagging, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale flushed a wonderful shade of scarlet. He was suddenly acutely aware of his hands and held onto the railings just for something to do with them. “Oh! Why on earth would they think that?!”

“You’re a first class gentleman and I’m…well, not. We don’t exactly share the same social circles. No other reason for us to be seeing each other.” He smiled humourlessly.

“Well no-one’s said anything to me!”

“Of course not! You look like you’re rich enough to do whatever you want; nobody’s going to care who or what you do so long as you’re discreet about it. Normal people aren’t so willing to turn the other cheek. Hence,” he gestured at his face again, “this.”

“Crowley, that’s appalling!”

“Yeah.” The demon sighed. “Humans are so closed minded.”

“They’ll get better.” Aziraphale reassured him.

“They can’t get any worse.”

They stared gloomily out over the water for a while. Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, a thought occurring to him.

“Should you be being seen with me? Won’t it rile up your fellow passengers?”

Crowley gave a bark of laughter and grinned at him. “Nah, its fine. I gave as good as I got, they won’t bother me again. Besides, a few of them seem to have come down with a nasty case of sea sickness, probably won’t leave their cabins for the rest of the voyage. Terrible shame.”

“Crowley!” Admonished Aziraphale, but he was smiling.

“They started it.” Crowley ginned at him. They smiled at each other for a long moment before Aziraphale cleared his throat and looked away.

“You could still pretend to be a first class passenger.” Aziraphale said after a moment. “Everyone’s so friendly, I’m sure-“

Crowley’s eyes lit up. He snorted. “Oh yes, made a lot of friends have you?”

Aziraphale glared. “Yes I have!”

“Women, these friends?”

“Well, I mean…I’ve met plenty of lovely people of both genders-”

“And these women – middle aged? Travelling with their adult daughters?” He smirked.

“Crowley I don’t know _what_ you’re implying, but-“

“Mention a Mrs Fell, have you?” The smirk grew wider. Aziraphale blinked at him, confused and slightly annoyed.

“There isn’t a Mrs Fell. Crowley, what-“

Crowley laughed. “You’ve become a target, angle. They think you’re a good suitor.”

“They do not! They don’t even know me!” Aziraphale protested indignantly.

“You spent _£500_ on a room on a boat. That makes you good son-in-law material no matter what dirty skeletons are in your closet.” He teased.

“There’s nothing dirty in my closet, thank you.” Aziraphale huffed. He paused, then sighed unhappily. “Oh dear. I _do_ hope I haven’t encouraged anyone.”

Crowley grinned. “Depends. Have you proposed?”

Aziraphale looked stunned. “Of course not!”

“Then you’re fine.” He laughed. “Come on. Let’s get back to that room of yours that’s driving all the ladies so wild.”

***

“Angel, I’m fairly sure you’re not supposed to have your own collection of fine wines with you.”

“It’s not against the rules. I checked.” Aziraphale said, indignantly.

“Of course you did.” He sauntered over, peering over Aziraphale’s shoulder to get a look at the label. “Chateau Margaux, very nice. Good year.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Aziraphale opened the bottle with a blink of his eyes and poured out two glasses. He picked up his own and sniffed delicately. “Ah. Perfection.”

“Yes.” Crowley said softly. Their eyes met and Aziraphale smiled shyly, passing Crowley his glass.

“What shall we drink to?” Aziraphale asked.

“Your inevitable engagement?” Crowley suggested, cocking his head to the side innocently.

“Crowley!”

Crowley laughed. “Alright, sorry, sorry. To…to good wine and good company.” He said jokingly.

“To good company.” Aziraphale echoed, clinking their glasses together.

It was the first of many toasts, each one getting sillier than the last as they made their way through Aziraphale’s wine collection. Aziraphale entertained Crowley with tales of the people he’d been spending time with on the ship, and Crowley countered with stories of what he’d been doing when he heard about the voyage and the small miracles he’d used to gain passage. It felt good, being so relaxed. Possibly because they were in the middle of the ocean and away from potentially prying eyes; Aziraphale seemed far more at ease than he usually was. Crowley could almost believe they were here together on purpose.

“Another – hic – another bottle, my dear?” Aziraphale asked tipsily. He got up and went to fetch another one. Crowley followed.

“What’ve you got left?”

Aziraphale squinted at the label for several seconds. “…red.” He said at last, sounding quite pleased with himself.

“Red then!” Crowley grinned. He set his glass down on the table and reached for the bottle. Aziraphale handed it to him, and Crowley removed the cork with a blink. He reached to grab his glass, and instead his fingers bumped Aziraphale’s, who must have reached for the glass at the same moment. Crowley felt a sudden, unexpected spark of electricity at the contact. They both froze. They didn’t move, nothing moved, for several long seconds and then slowly, very slowly, Aziraphale turned his hand so they were palm to palm, fingers brushing together. Crowley’s breath hitched. He stared down at their hands, fingers almost entwined, and his heart twinged. He looked up at Aziraphale. The angel’s eyes were fixed on their hands, seemingly hypnotised by his own slowly moving fingers. He swallowed heavily, then looked up to meet Crowley’s gaze. There was defiance in that look, and a small amount of fear, and…something else. Something that _burned_.

“Aziraphale.” Crowley breathed. He lowered his head, just a fraction, then paused to examine Aziraphale’s face. Any hint of doubt and he would stop this, he told himself, any sign that Aziraphale wasn’t ok with this and it was over…

Aziraphale’s eyes fell to his mouth.

That was all the permission Crowley needed. He dipped his head a little further, eyes falling closed, he could feel Aziraphale’s breath on his face and then…

**CRRUUUNNCHHH**

They both jumped, the noise shattering the moment and leaving them both looking around startled. There was a jolt, not huge but something about it was enough to make the hairs on Crowley’s neck stand on end.

“What the fuck was that?” Crowley demanded, heart pounding at a speed which was quite frankly unnecessary and a bit rude considering he didn’t even need the heart in the first place.

“I’m not sure.” Aziraphale replied, frowning.

“I’m going to go and check it out. Stay here. Stay HERE.” Crowley snapped as Aziraphale made to follow him out of the room. “We don’t know what’s going on, it’s easier if I know where to find you.”

“Oh, very well.” Aziraphale huffed.

***

Crowley hurried down the empty corridor, mind racing. _What was that? What had just happened?_ If that noise, whatever it was, hadn’t happened would they…? He swallowed. He wasn’t sure if he was annoyed about the interruption or absurdly grateful. He could admit that he’d been in love with Aziraphale since the garden, it was always there, but the strength of his feelings seemed to ebb and flow like the tide which made things easier to manage. This was…something new. He’d wondered in the past if Aziraphale felt the same way, caught a glimpse on the angel’s face or picked up something in the way he spoke, but they’d never come this close before. He’d never felt this _need_ before. Usually it took longer for his feelings to become unmanageable like that; usually he had more time before the urge to touch, to kiss, to _covet_ became too much and he had to run. He wasn’t sure what would happen if they actually crossed that line; he didn’t know if he’d be able to leave anymore. Didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing.

He hadn’t been entirely honest with Aziraphale regarding his little ‘set-to’. They hadn’t come out of nowhere, they’d been _taunting_ him. And he was ignoring it, he was prepared to make them forget what they were talking about or start on each other, or…but then one of them had asked how many other ‘men’ Aziraphale had on his payroll and Crowley had snapped, hissing insults and curses and before he had enough of a handle on his temper to sort this out properly; one of them had thrown a punch. And he’d let it happen. Not because he was afraid of hurting them; he could have easily stopped it without causing injury no matter what he’d told Aziraphale. And not because he wanted to defend the angel’s honour (Ok, maybe there was a bit of that). No; he let it happen because that sudden flare of anger had brought it home just how much the thought of Aziraphale with anyone else bothered him and that wasn’t something he’d ever considered before; and that just completely derailed him. So he’d let them beat him, then he’d spent the day holed up in the engine room just thinking before making his way up on deck. He’d just been wondering if he could bring himself to leave without saying goodbye when Aziraphale had found him. The look on Aziraphale’s face when he saw Crowley’s bruises had _hurt_, and instead of making his goodbyes he had found himself reassuring and joking with the angel, trying to make him feel better, and Crowley hated himself for being so weak. He rounded a corner and spotted a steward hurrying towards him.

“Excuse me!” Crowley called out, jogging slightly to meet him quicker. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing to worry about, excuse me…” he tried to push past him, but Crowley grabbed him by the arm. “Let go!”

“Go on.” Crowley’s voice was honey-sweet. “You can tell me the truth.”

The steward looked around. “We hit an iceberg.” He said quietly. “She’s been breached.”

“We’re sinking?”

The steward shook his head. “We just need to evacuate. If I were you, I’d return to your room. There’s nothing to be done until help arrives. Now, excuse me…” he pulled his arm from Crowley’s grip and hurried away. Crowley watched him go, frowning faintly. Well. It looked like their pleasure cruise was over, then.

***

“Aziraphale!” Crowley called as he burst into the room. “Angel? We should leave, ship’s hit…Aziraphale?” He paused, realising how quiet it was, then growled. “I give him one instruction, one simple bloody instruction, but does he listen? Nahhh. Just goes gallivanting around the ship when I need him.” He sighed. “I should go and find him, shouldn’t I? Actually no, bollocks to him. I’m not sticking around to watch people climb off a ship.” He turned and left the rooms, heading straight for the first class dining room. Dining rooms were always a good place to start when looking for Aziraphale.

***

Aziraphale had stayed in the room for exactly 3 minutes and 27 seconds before deciding it was ridiculous. Whatever that noise had been, it sounded big. He wasn’t going to stand around doing nothing just because Crowley wanted to be able to find him; he wasn’t a child. He stepped out of the room and paused, tilting his head quizzically. Something had changed. _But what?_ There was a peculiar stillness to the air that bothered him. Shaking his head he started off down the corridor, hoping to find someone who knew what on earth was going on. Unfortunately for him, the few people he did encounter in the corridors were just as baffled as he was. He’d flagged down a steward but had just been told there was no problem, just a propeller. Aziraphale didn’t buy that for a second.

Giving up, he headed back to his room. He figured maybe Crowley was back by now and had hopefully had more luck in finding out what on earth was going on. When he returned, he found the door ajar and the room deserted. Ah. Crowley had been back, then, and had left again.

“Damn.” He huffed. Should he wait for Crowley to come back? _No,_ he decided, _he’s not likely to come back here again. I’d better go and look for him_. He tried to think about where Crowley would be most likely to go, then paused. Assuming Crowley was looking for him, it might be better to go where Crowley would think _he_ was most likely to go. After a moment’s hesitation, Aziraphale set off for the first class lounge. It was as good a place to start as any.

***

“Aziraphale!” Aziraphale looked up at the sound of Crowley’s voice. He spotted him quickly, leaning over the railings of a deck above him. He raised a hand in a wave. “Don’t move, angel. Stay there!” Crowley called, and disappeared from view. Aziraphale waited. Within two minutes Crowley was at his side, an annoyed frown on his face.

“Crowley?”

“You couldn’t just stay where I told you, could you?”

“I wasn’t aware I had to do everything you told me.” Aziraphale said coldly. Crowley sighed impatiently, waving a dismissive hand.

“Yes, well, whatever – listen, we have to go.”

“Go where?”

“Anywhere. Doesn’t matter. Just off the ship. It’s hit something, they’re evacuating.”

Aziraphale’s eyes narrowed. “Was this you?”

Crowley gaped at him, eyes wide behind his sunglasses. “Oh, yeah, I’ll just risk sinking this ship in the middle of the freezing ocean whilst I’m on board, that’ll be fun! I’m hardly going to be on the bloody thing if I did this am I?” he realised with a stab of irritation that his voice had come out rather high pitched. He lowered it to more of a growl. “Of course it wasn’t me.”

“Ok. Sorry. But we can’t just leave them can we?”

“They’ve sent distress calls, it’ll be fine. Help will come.”

“When?”

“I don’t know, soon! The point is, there’s no need for us to hang around. So let’s go.” He motioned for them to leave.

Aziraphale hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “No. I mean, yes we should leave, but the least we could do is assist with the evacuation. Get people up on deck, etcetera.”

Crowley groaned loudly. Several people turned to look at them and Aziraphale smiled sheepishly at them in apology. “Angel. Do we have to.”

“Well, _you_ don’t. I, however, am going to help.”

Crowley looked like he was fighting some internal battle with himself. Finally, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Ugh. Fine. An hour should be plenty of time, then we meet back here. Got it?”

“Fine. One hour. I’ll see you later. Oh, and Crowley?”

Crowley, who had started to walk away, turned. “Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Crowley’s lip curled. “Whatever.”

Aziraphale smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

“Get people up on deck.” Crowley grumbled to himself. “Bloody angel.” They could have been having drinks in front of the Statue of Liberty by now if Aziraphale had just agreed to leave but instead they were running around helping humans. Crowley walked along the corridor banging on doors. “Get up on deck, ship’s being evacuated, yada yada yada.” He turned a corner, ready to keep going, when he saw someone scurry past at the end. Someone who looked suspiciously senior to be down so low. “Where are you going?” He murmured, abandoning his rousing of the sleeping humans to hurry down the corridor. He caught sight of the retreating figure and followed silently. They were going deeper into the bowels of the ship. Crowley frowned. “What _are_ you doing here?”

“What’s the situation?” he heard. Crowley looked around then hopped up on the ceiling for an easier vantage point and peered around the corner. Several staff members stood there, looking uneasy.

“It’s not good, Mr Murdoch. She’s been breached.”

“Yes, yes, I know that man!”

“Five compartments are flooded, sir. The bulkheads won’t hold.”

“Five…no, she can’t have.”

“She has, sir. She’s going down.”

“Damn.” The man – Murdoch – frowned. “We’ve sent out distress calls already but we’ll have to change the information being sent out, get someone here quicker. Damn.”

“Yes, sir.”

Crowley frowned. So they _were_ sinking then. This should probably be his cue to get Aziraphale and hastily bugger off. He started to turn to leave when Murdoch spoke again.

“No-one’s answered yet.”

He sounded worried. Crowley paused. _It’s not your problem. Go find Aziraphale._ With a low growl, Crowley closed his eyes and reached out with his mind, searching for a ship which would come. His eyes snapped open suddenly, his whole body filled with a tension that hadn’t been there before. He rapidly worked through everything he knew about the ship in his mind and it just confirmed what he already knew.

There weren’t enough lifeboats.

And nobody was close enough to come to the rescue.

***

“Shit shit _shit_.” Crowley growled, hurrying back towards the stairs. He banged on doors as he passed, but his heart definitely wasn’t in it. Not that it ever had been, of course. But, really, there wasn’t anything he could do and the most important thing was finding Aziraphale. He didn’t plan on getting discorporated and he definitely didn’t plan on it happening to Aziraphale. Who knew how long it would take either one of them to get a new body and be allowed back? He heard a creaking groan followed by a muffled crash from somewhere below him.

_That didn’t sound good_.

He quickened his pace slightly. Rounding a corner, he saw a young woman peering out of her room, a baby asleep in her arms. Behind her, Crowley could see a young boy still sound asleep.

“Excuse me.” The woman said. “What’s happening?”

“We’ve hit an iceberg.” Crowley said quickly. “You need to take your kids and get to a lifeboat.”

The woman eyed him, curiously. “It’s far too cold up there for them, and I don’t want to wake the baby. We’ll wait here until help arrives. Thank you, though-“

“Please.” Crowley hissed desperately, taking a step forwards. He saw her eyes widen and her grip on the baby reflexively tighten, and wondered what she’d seen on his face. “Please. Get to a lifeboat. Quickly.”

She swallowed nervously, her eyes darting over his face. “Ok.” She turned and Crowley heard her start rousing the boy but he didn’t hang around to make sure. He had to keep moving. He needed to make sure he was on the boat deck when Aziraphale returned so the pair of them could make a speedy exit; leave the poor bastard humans to their fate. He burst out onto the deck, scanning quickly in case Aziraphale was back early.

Of course he wasn’t

Lifeboats were being launched, now. Crowley watched as one started to sail away from the ship, nowhere near at capacity. He gritted his teeth. As he watched, the stewards grabbed another boat but a sudden lurch caused it to slip, sending it crashing on to the deck. Crowley saw the bottom of the boat crack and splinter – it was unusable. Unwilling to allow more death than he had to; he quickly snapped his fingers and repaired the damage.

_Come on Aziraphale. Where the heaven are you?_

***

After leaving Crowley, Aziraphale headed straight for the closest rooms, rousing as many people as he could. He _did_ hope help arrived quickly, it was such a shame the voyage was ending this way, and he said as much to anyone who asked him about what was going on. He wondered briefly where Crowley had gone; they really should have discussed a plan so that they didn’t end up going to the same places. Perhaps he should start right from the bottom? There weren’t passenger rooms that far down, but there may well be off duty staff sleeping...if not, he’d just move on. Casting his eyes around quickly to make sure no one was watching; he blinked very deliberately and then found himself in a small corridor. It was surprisingly hot and dark and Aziraphale wondered uncomfortably if this was what hell might feel like. Brushing that thought off with a shudder, he started walking, knocking on any door he came across and passing on the message to anyone he met that they should get up on deck. Most of them were quite confused to find a well-dressed English gentleman so far from the passenger comforts but no one quite felt able to mention it.  
Emerging from a flight of stairs, Aziraphale went to continue his mission when something made him pause. He could _feel_ something. Frowning, he instead turned back to the stairs, going up another level and walking along the corridor. _There_. He was stood outside an unassuming little door which seemed to belong to an office. He stepped inside.

It was a small office, and over to one side lay something which definitely shouldn’t be there; a man surrounded by a pool of blood. Aziraphale grimaced. A quick scan of the room showed him what must have happened; there was a heavy looking sculpture cracked on the floor, seemingly that jolt they’d felt had sent it crashing into the poor man. Was he dead? Aziraphale knelt down beside him, checking him over. The man was unconscious but alive. Just.

“There now.” Aziraphale said gently. “It’s alright. I’m here to help.” He eyed the head wound critically. He doubted the man had more than a few minutes to live; it was a miracle he was still alive at all. He laid a hand gently beside the wound and willed it to heal. In an instant, the cut was gone and the bleeding stopped, but he knew there was more damage beneath the surface; there had to be, he could still feel the man’s life-force fading. He hesitated. Bringing a simple lifeform such as a bird or a rat back to life was child’s play; humans were much too complicated. If the man died there was nothing he could do. He considered for a moment just leaving him here; there were plenty of people who needed his help…but no. Walking away now was tantamount to killing him himself. He just needed a bit more…he focused, channelling the power through his fingers into the young man’s head. Slowly, he felt the man relax, could feel that it was working. He breathed a sigh of relief. A few more seconds and they man took a deep breath, relaxing into a deep sleep. He was ok. Aziraphale smiled. Exhausted, he stood and waved a hand, sending the man up to Aziraphale’s own room to sleep it off. He felt a sharp tug behind his eyes which told him he was overdoing it; probably best not perform any miracles for a little while until he got his strength up. A movement over his shoulder made him turn his head and he saw to his surprise that his wings had manifested in the physical plane. Well. It had been _centuries_ since he’d been tired enough to let _that_ happen. It took such a small amount of energy keeping them in the celestial plane. He’d really overdone it. What he needed now was to sit down with a good book and a cup of tea and rest for a few hours; he’d have his energy up in no time. He had only a second or two to contemplate this before a loud groaning sounded above him and something slammed into the floor mere centimetres from where the man had just been. It was a further second before Aziraphale realised the ceiling had partially given way and debris and bits of what looked like a shorn metal beam were littering the floor. It was another split second before Aziraphale realised part of said beam had penetrated right through his wing, tearing the flesh.

The pain cut through him like hellfire. He collapsed to his knees, gasping, agony radiating from his wing. He fought to keep from throwing up.

“No time for this.” He panted, forcing himself to stand, pulling himself free from the metal and forcing his wings back into the celestial plane of existence. His vision swam as a new wave of pain rolled over him and he bit down a shout. He had to get on deck, he had to help people. He looked at the door which was now pinned shut. It would only take a minor miracle…he gestured theatrically with his hand. The door didn’t budge. Aziraphale frowned. He glanced up at the ruined ceiling. Maybe he could just miracle himself straight up on deck? He blinked slowly, willing himself up onto the deck…nothing happened. Desperately, Aziraphale looked around the room. His eyes fell on a pen lying on the floor. He made a flicking motion with his hand, trying to miracle the pen to move…it stayed resolutely where it was. He sucked in a breath through his teeth. The pain was making him dizzy, but worse than that, it seemed whatever damage had been done to his wing was severe enough that he wasn’t able to use his angelic abilities. Unable to stay on his feet, Aziraphale collapsed into a chair, vision swimming.

“Oh dear. This is not good.”

Aziraphale blinked heavily. This felt very wrong. Part of him wanted to just close his eyes, accept his discorporation and hope it wouldn’t take too long to get a new body. But something in the back of his mind, some hidden instinct, told him he had to fight this. It was more than discorporation at stake. The corporeal body was fine, after all. _Bugger that hurts_. He wondered if Crowley would care enough to come and find him. He wished he could say he was sure he would. He wished they’d talked about what happened last time. He wished he’d gotten a chance to say…well. A wave of pain and nausea flared and Aziraphale rested his head against the desk.

_I’m sorry Crowley._

*** 

Crowley watched the people milling around with growing agitation. The humans had started to realise something wasn’t quite right, he could hear people discussing whether they should have left on the few lifeboats which had already launched. And still Aziraphale wasn’t there. Crowley growled in frustration. Where _was_ he? It had been well over an hour now. Aziraphale was _never_ late. Crowley had searched the decks but turned up nothing…maybe it was time to try something else. Crowley took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the sound of human chatter fade into the background. Much likes sharks can sense blood in one part per million of water, demons can sense celestial power – when they put their mind to it. That was what Crowley was doing now. And when the celestial power in question was leaking from its host in the quantities Aziraphale’s currently was, it was like a full on assault to the senses, as though the shark has swum directly into a pool containing no water at all; only the blood. He was moving before he even had time for conscious thought, pushing his way through the crowds towards the source, panic instantly overwhelming him. Once he was out of sight of the majority of humans he gave a flick of his hand and found himself in a corridor deep in the bowels of the ship. Clearly something had happened here; none of the lights were working and it looked like part of the ceiling had come down…_there_. His eyes fell on a door to his right which seemed to be where Aziraphale was. He glanced through the glass panel. And froze. To human eyes, all they would see was Aziraphale slumped in a chair, no harm come to him at all. But when Crowley checked the celestial plane the air was thick with the warm copper tang of blood. “Shit.” He breathed. Aziraphale’s left wing was in tatters, he could see a gaping ragged hole where no hole should be. His feathers were bent and stained. With a flick of the hand, the door was open and he hurried over to his friend. “No no no no no no no, Aziraphale?” the angel was pale, far too pale. “Aziraphale!” He slapped the Angel’s cheek. “Come on you bastard. Please. Open your eyes, come on, open your eyes.” Crowley wondered if he was too late. He screwed his eyes shut. “Don’t you dare leave me. _Please_.”

“…Crowley?” Aziraphale said weakly. Crowley’s eyes sprang open and he reached forwards, cupping Aziraphale’s cheek.

“Yes! Yes, I’m here, angel.” He helped Aziraphale to sit up. Aziraphale clung to his sleeve, looking slightly sick.

“Why _are_ you here?”

Crowley scoffed. “Why do you think? What the heaven happened?”

“My wing-”

“I can see that. What were you doing?”

Aziraphale smiled faintly, then winced sharply. “Ceiling collapsed. Metal…pierced my wing…”

Crowley frowned. “And that was enough to injure your wing. Just metal?”

“I…might have been distracted. There was a man. He was hurt. Dying. I had to help him.”

“Oh.” Crowley grimaced in understanding. “You idiot.”

“Possibly a mistake, in hindsight.” He grimaced. “Oh, that hurts.”

“Yes, it would.” Crowley looked at him. “Do you think you can stand?”

“If you help me, my dear.” Crowley helped him to his feet, trying to ignore the sharp gasp of pain Aziraphale let out. “Thank you. What’s going on?”

“The ship’s going down.” He admitted. Aziraphale stared at him.

“What? But it can’t sink!” Aziraphale protested. Crowley rolled his eyes.

“It’s a very heavy metal thing in the water. I’m pretty sure it can.”

“But-“

“I heard them talking. The bulkheads have failed. We’re going down and there’s nothing anyone can do.”

“Well, I mean, we can! We can stop it from sinking, surely? Or at least slow it down a bit!”

“Aziraphale, you’re injured, you don’t have the strength. And I can’t perform that sort of huge miracle, not on my own and not without getting noticed.”

“We can’t do nothing!” Aziraphale pleaded. “Miracle them off!”

“I can’t do everyone. Who gets to live, Aziraphale? Who do I choose? We can’t just miracle people to safety, Head office will notice for one thing.”

“We can’t do nothing.” Aziraphale repeated desperately. He closed his eyes. Crowley heard metal creaking and the tiniest jolt.

“Aziraphale, stop, what the fuck are you doing?!”

“I can…” The angel trailed off. “I…” he suddenly gave a shudder and vomited silver fluid onto the floor. His eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed so suddenly that Crowley almost dropped him. For a moment Crowley thought he was unconscious again, or worse, but then his eyes flickered open again. “Oh dear.” He said faintly.

“What did you do?!”

“I tried to…repair…I failed.” He whispered miserably.

“Because your power is currently leaking from the _bloody great big hole in your wing_ you fucking idiot.” Crowley snapped.

“They’re going to die.”

Crowley’s anger drained away at the defeated tone in Aziraphale’s voice. “Yes.” he said softly.

“I’m going to die with them.”

Crowley stared at him. “No.”

“I’m not an idiot. I can feel it.”

Crowley felt sick. “Angel, look at me.” he seized Aziraphale’s face in his, pulling him close so he had no choice but to look into Crowley’s snake-like eyes. “I will get you out of here, do you understand me? We are both getting off this ship. Ok?” Aziraphale’s eyes flicked between his for a few seconds, and then he nodded. Crowley’s relaxed his hold, but didn’t let go. “Good.” He ran a thumb over Aziraphale’s cheekbone. “Good.” He repeated quietly. Aziraphale frowned, and his eyes flicked to Crowley’s lips for a split second. It was enough to bring home to Crowley just how intimate and inappropriate this was and he cleared his throat, letting go of Aziraphale’s face. “Now, first thing we need to do is see to that wing. Can you bring them into the physical plane?”

“I think so.” Aziraphale twitched his head and his wings sprang out into existence. He gave a cry of pain and fell forwards onto his hands and knees. Crowley swore. In the physical plane the damage was so much more obvious and looked so much worse than he’d thought. Crowley hissed as he surveyed the damage. Blood and power leaked from the wound leaving the air feeling charged and metallic. There was no way Aziraphale would last like this. Crowley let out a low growl. Clearly the angel was in no fit state to heal himself, but it had been a _long_ time since Crowley had healed anybody. He wasn’t even sure if he still could; demon’s magic worked differently to angelic magic. But he had to try.

Reverently, he laid his hands either side of the wound and _believed_. He let the power surge from him, into the wing. Aziraphale cried out and grimaced in pain and that _definitely_ was not supposed to happen, nor was the fact that his own hands had begun to burn painfully. Crowley pushed on, willing the damage to heal. “Come on.” He hissed. “Come _on_.” It began to smoke slightly, but Crowley could see the gaping wound knitting and closing so he pushed on, accessing every ounce of demonic power at his disposal. As soon as the wound closed he ripped his hands away, cursing. His palms were sore and blistered, but that didn’t matter. He looked at Aziraphale’s wing. There was no hole anymore but the new tissue was red and streaked with black; it looked angry, and infected, and just _wrong_. But it was no longer haemorrhaging Aziraphale’s celestial power so he supposed it would do for now. Aziraphale wasn’t out of danger, all he’d done was buy time, but it had to be enough. “Aziraphale?” He asked softly. Aziraphale’s eyes flickered open. They looked unfocused.

“Crowley. You look…strange.”

“Thanks.”

“Your face is all…” Aziraphale made some sort of gesture with his hand. “All.” He said, as if this should make sense.

“Ok, I think you’re delirious. We’re going to move now, ok? Can you put your wings away?” he slipped Aziraphale’s arm around him and hoisted him up as the angel’s wings disappeared into the celestial plane.

“You’re very pretty you know.” Aziraphale slurred. “Up close. We should be close more often.”

“Ok, fine, suggest it again later when you’re feeling better.”

Aziraphale frowned. “I feel…not better.” His eyes drifted closed before snapping open again. There was more clarity in his gaze now. “Crowley, you have to leave me.”

“Yeah…not happening.”

“You don’t have the strength to miracle us both out of here, not after what you just did.”

“Then we’ll take a boat.”

“I won’t let more of them die just so I can live.” Aziraphale said quietly.

“Then what do you want me to do?!” Crowley growled in frustration. “Aziraphale, the state you’re in if I leave you, you won’t just discorporate. You’ll die.”

“I know.”

“I’m not going to let that happen.”

“And I’m not going to let you discorporate yourself alongside me!” Aziraphale snapped. “Crowley, I-

“Shh.” He breathed, resting their foreheads together briefly. “Don’t talk, not when you don’t know what you’re saying. You need your strength. Now, we’re going to walk, ok? I can’t miracle us both up there when you’re in this state, so walking will have to do. We’re going to get up on deck. Then I can fly us to safety. And don’t you dare say you can’t because we both know you can do anything if you put your mind to it so just bloody listen to me.”

Aziraphale smiled, but it looked forced. “Ok my dear. I’ll do my best.”

“Do better.” Crowley tightened his grip and together they slowly began to make their way upwards. Crowley could feel Aziraphale weakening with every step but he forced them to press on. They were just nearing another flight of stairs when Aziraphale stumbled and fell, dragging Crowley down on top of him.

“Sorry.” He muttered.

“Don’t worry about it. Come on, up you get.” A sudden meow made him pause. He looked around. “Wait here a second.”

“Oh…I was…a little stroll…” Aziraphale mumbled. Crowley hurried a few meters down the corridor they’d just come from. Another desperate meow came from close by. He glanced into the room on his left to be greeted by the sight of a sodden Jenny, several small, wet, furry kittens behind her. She’d clearly made her way from lower down and gathered them all on a high shelf, but clearly that wasn’t going to be enough once the water flooded in.

“Sorry.” Crowley muttered and turned to head back to Aziraphale. Jenny meowed again and Crowley hesitated, then growled and snapped his fingers. Instantly, cat and kittens vanished. Trying not to think of the mayhem six unsupervised cats could make in his flat, Crowley hurried back to where he’d left Aziraphale. “Come on, Angel.” He hoisted him up again and slowly made their way up to the boat deck.

It was pandemonium.

People had definitely realised they were going down now. Everyone was rushing about, calling for loved ones, clamouring for boats. Crowley peered through the carnage, trying to spot a clear path to the edge of the ship they could use as an escape route, then looked down at Aziraphale.

Who was now unconscious.

“Fuck!” Crowley growled. He manoeuvred the angel into an out of the way corner where he wasn’t likely to get accidently trampled. “Wake up, you idiot!” Around them, the humans were beginning to panic in earnest. “I can’t carry you if you’re unconscious, I don’t have the strength right now. Aziraphale, please!”

Then Crowley heard a scream.

It was the sort of scream that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The sort of scream that says ‘I’m going to die’. The sort of scream that should bring perverse joy to a demon and that made Crowley feel slightly sick. And then he realised the boat was tilting quickly, being dragged down. He grabbed hold of Aziraphale to stop him sliding.

“Wake up, Angel, come on!” He cried desperately. People were slipping, screaming, falling into the water below. There was a sudden loud cracking noise and Crowley found himself knocked off balance as the Stern crashed back into the water. The ship had broken in two. After only a few seconds, it began to rise again, quickly. They were at such a sharp angle now people were unable to stand, only staying where they were by holding on to railings and fixtures and still Aziraphale wouldn’t wake up.

And now they were vertical. Bobbing in the water. Crowley looked up at the desperate people clinging to the railings above them. As he watched, he saw someone lose their grip and fall with a scream of terror that would haunt Crowley for a long time. He looked down at the churning water below. He knew it was only a matter of minutes before they sank completely, there was no point holding on. He took a deep breath and manifested his wings, enshrouding Aziraphale tightly. Then dropped like a stone into the waiting, hungry sea.


	5. Chapter 5

It felt like Falling.

The shock and pain of the sudden cold threatened to overwhelm him. Darkness swirled around him. Screams and voices and memories of Falling echoed in his head, and for one terrifying, dizzying second he thought he was going to lose consciousness. _No_. He had to hold on, had to keep Aziraphale safe. He shook his head to clear it, opening his eyes. At temperatures like these he doubted most humans could survive longer than 30 minutes at the most. Aziraphale could probably last longer (although in his current state, who knew) but he would definitely discorporate long before then. He could already feel the cold deep in his bones. Crowley fought his way to the surface and looked up at the stern of the ship still looming above them. All around them was debris, and more bodies than he cared to count. Some people floundered helplessly in the water, calling for help. Crowley bit down a sudden flare of anger. _This shouldn’t have happened_. With a low growl, he turned away, swimming as fast as he could from the wreck, Aziraphale safely wrapped in his sodden wings. He could feel ice forming on his hair and eyelashes as he swam, and again blackness threatened to overcome him but he fought through it. The screams of the survivors grew distant as he went; but whether that was because they were getting farther form the wreck or because his body was shutting down he honestly couldn’t tell. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted something floating and changed direction, heading for it. Whatever it was, he believed it was big enough to take both of their weight and so it did. He carefully pushed Aziraphale onto it and climbed up himself, vanishing his wings and wrapping his arms around the angel in a hopeless attempt to keep them both warm. Crowley lay on his back, gazing up at the stars. They looked beautiful.

He glanced over at Aziraphale. His breathing had slowed. This wasn’t fair. They could have been far away from here, but Aziraphale had wanted to help. He’d just wanted to help, because he was an angel, and that was what he was supposed to do. And what thanks did he get?

“Damn you.” Crowley hissed angrily up at the dark sky. “Help him.”

There was no reply. Of course there wasn’t. They weren’t listening; They never were. He looked back at Aziraphale. The angel’s face had taken on a blueish tinge now. Crowley had failed. He would soon discorporate, and then Aziraphale would die, and then there would be no point to anything. “I lo…lov…” he couldn’t speak anymore. He was too cold, everything was failing him. Crowley felt a sudden rush of despair which seemed to burn from the inside out. He thought back to their last argument; it all seemed so stupid now. All he’d wanted was a way out if Hell caught up with him, and he’d been so angry when Aziraphale wouldn’t help him…barely even acknowledged that Crowley might have a right to ask…and now look at them. Freezing to death in the middle of the ocean and Heaven and Hell had no idea where they even were. Funny how things worked out. He would be discorporated soon, but that was insignificant because Aziraphale would be gone and he’d never even know how Crowley felt, how he was…_actually burning. _Crowley’s eyes flew open as it finally registered in his foggy brain what he was feeling. _Warmth_. Crowley flexed his fingers and flame leapt into his palm before extinguishing. Crowley felt a rush of euphoria, evidently he’d at least partially recovered from healing Aziraphale, at least enough to buy them some time. Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, building as much warmth as he could, watching the blue fade from his angel’s skin. _Now what?_ He wasn’t sure how long they drifted; it could have been seconds, minutes, or hours. The warmth he was conjuring slowly seeped away until it faded entirely, but Crowley wasn’t giving up now. He sat up, looking around and realising to his surprise they were still within sight of the wreck.

It was a graveyard.

The dead were everywhere, sightless eyes staring up into the heavens. Crowley idly wondered how many of them had actually made it up there. Movement to his left made him turn, and he saw what was quite possibly the most wonderful thing he’d ever seen.

A lifeboat. One had come back.

***

Crowley sat at Aziraphale’s bedside, watching him sleep. It had been rough, but Aziraphale seemed to be over the worst of it. The fever had gone and the Angel was no longer whimpering which had to be a good sign. Crowley had spent the first few nights after their miraculous rescue practically plastered to Aziraphale’s side, lying beside him on the bed, hand resting lightly on his chest just to feel Aziraphale breathing. Crowley had slept, of course, and his demonic power was fully functioning again. The same seemed to be true of Aziraphale – every time Crowley checked the celestial plane the wing looked a little better; it seemed Aziraphale was perfectly capable of healing himself when he had the strength. The only thing that seemed wrong now was a patch of darker feathers where the wound had been, but Crowley supposed they would fade with time.  
He sighed heavily, sitting back. This was pathetic. He was sat here watching over Aziraphale like a lovesick spouse; not a…was friend the right word? _You don’t fraternise with friends_ he thought, bitterly, and felt a twinge of sadness which he deliberately ignored. It didn’t matter what he wanted their relationship to be, what mattered is what it was. And he was certain that they were friends. Almost certain. Probably.

With a growl, he stood up and stalked over to the window. He still felt so angry about the whole thing; about Aziraphale getting hurt, about God ignoring them, about the crash…about what had happened before the crash…Crowley shook his head, clearing it from his mind. It wouldn’t do to dwell on that. He looked back at Aziraphale and his heart leapt into his throat when he saw, to his relief, that the angel’s eyes were finally open.

***

“Crowley.” Aziraphale looked around, blinking heavily. “Where am I?”

“Little place just outside of New York.”

“America? We-oh!” he sat up, then the colour drained from his face and with a whimper he lay back down again. “The Titanic! We need to go back and-”

Crowley hurried over to the bed, sitting beside it and placing a calming hand next to Aziraphale’s, fingers just touching. “She sank over a week ago, Aziraphale. You’ve been out for a while.”

“Oh.” He seemed to deflate slightly. “What happened?”

“…How much do you remember?” Crowley asked, cautiously.

Aziraphale considered. “Not much, once I got injured, apart from the pain.” He admitted, “It’s all a little hazy. You got me out?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, my dear. And the humans?”

“What about them?”

Aziraphale went very still. Crowley was avoiding the question, which could only mean… “Crowley. How many got out?”

“What’s important is-“

“Crowley!”

“They haven’t got any official numbers yet.” Crowley said, reluctantly. “But by my count? About 700.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “That few?”

“Aziraphale-“

He felt tears prickling his eyes, tears for all those lives cut short because of a stupid accident. “You wasted your energy on helping me, you should have helped them.”

“I did all I could.”

“No, you didn’t!” Aziraphale opened his eyes again. “You should have left me, Crowley.”

Crowley stood up, pacing the room. “You were _dying_. Your corporeal form wasn’t hurt at all, you _know_ that.”

Aziraphale sighed heavily. “Yes, I do. And I am truly grateful to you for saving my life. But don’t you see, I’m only one person! When it comes down to it, one life compared to hundreds, the one doesn’t matter-”

“It matters to me.” Crowley interrupted quietly.

“It shouldn’t. Not when you could have saved-”

“Who exactly do you think you’re talking to, Aziraphale?” Crowley snapped suddenly, baring his teeth in a snarl. “Demon, remember? I don’t care about the humans; I don’t care about their lives. The whole reason I’m on this earth is to spread evil and get souls for my Master and the way I see it I’ve done a pretty damn good job!”

“You don’t mean that.” Aziraphale said sadly, taken aback.

Crowley softened. He suddenly looked very sad, and very old, and very tired. He turned away. “Maybe I just care about them less.” He said softly. So softly Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure he was supposed to have heard.

“Crowley…”

“Don’t start, Aziraphale. I don’t even know why I’m still here.”

“Neither do I.” Aziraphale said carefully. “I’m ok, so why…?”

Crowley hesitated, then abruptly the scowl was back on his face and Aziraphale wondered if he’d imagined the moment of softness in the first place. “Don’t rely on me being around to save you, next time.” He snapped. “I’ll see you around, Aziraphale.” With that, he turned on his heel and left. Aziraphale sighed, sinking back into the pillows.

He thought about how many people had lost their lives.

He thought about those he considered friends, wondered if they’d made it off the ship.

He thought about what he was going to say to Head Office.

And he thought about hands holding his face, worried snake-like eyes, and the gentle press of foreheads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! Turns out I had more time than expected last night.
> 
> To anyone interested, Jenny the ship's cat was real as were her kittens - there are conflicting reports as to whether she was actually on board when Titanic went down but I couldn't resist a little bit of Crowley softness (he may hate cats but he's a softy)
> 
> I may do a follow up if anyone's interested.


End file.
